A Glimmering Machine
by Mistress Of The Macabre
Summary: Glimmer is from District One. She's trained for the Games her entire life. Winning is all she's ever wanted. But she begins to have doubts, about the Games, about her life, about who she is. Who is she? Is she a person, or is she just a glamorous, glimmering machine ready to serve the Capitol? An insight into what MIGHT have gone on before the Games. Marvel's in here too.


**A/N: This is just an idea I had whilst re-reading The Hunger Games for the millionth time. I feel quite sorry for the Careers actually! Through the eyes of the late Glimmer.**

My name is Glimmer. I live in District One. I come from a long line of proud Careers, and jewellers. Our work goes straight to the Capitol, and in return, we get more sponsors and more advantages in the Hunger Games.

Well, that's what people tell me. I haven't been a tribute yet. But I can't wait. Ever since I could walk and carry tools, my parents have made me stick to a strict regime that requires me to get up at dawn, train with a personal trainer for two hours, go to work in the jewellery store, and then train in the evenings. I always get big meals, to compensate for my high metabolism and the fact that I'm always moving around. My jewellery is perfect- it glimmers, hence how I got my name. I'm proficient with knives, with swords, and axes. If you throw me a weapon, I can learn to use it decently in a day.

I haven't learned how to use a bow yet, though. I'll be learning that next week.

Am I happy with how my life is? I don't dislike it. The training, the hard work, seeing beautiful pieces come out that I made with my two hands- that's all I've ever been raised with. I've never done anything else. Nor have my parents.

Which is why, when I see the broadcasts and I see other Districts, like Eleven and Twelve, and see how filthy the people are there, I can't help but sneer. Even when they're wearing their best clothes for the Reapings, they still look disgusting. I remember one time my mother turned my younger sister away from the broadcast, saying, "Don't look, dear; you don't want to ever turn out like them." Jade can't know any better; nor can I.

I look at the Reapings, at the other Districts in their dirty clothes and pinched faces, and decide I will never become like them.

If I become a tribute, I will win, no matter what it takes.

 **XxX**

As I rest up, drinking from a bottle my trainer has given me, I have a moment of revelation. Every day, my life is exactly the same. I get up, I train, I work, and then I train again. In other words, I am becoming almost the perfect candidate for the Hunger Games. I can scale a tree, I can hunt, I can work ropes. I can flip an attacker twice my size.

But who was I, really? I was Glimmer from District One, daughter of Midas and Opal, sister of Jade, but that was all anybody knew about me. Even Marvel, an acquaintance of mine who had the same trainer, had more of a personality than I did. In the minimal time he got to himself, he liked to draw characters from books that had more pictures than words. He'd colour them in and show me, and I would mutter all the right words, but what did I have?

I had no hobbies; my life literally revolved around training. It occurred to me as I was drinking the water, that I was hardly a person at all; I was just another creation of District One, made to serve the Capitol in every way. I tried to rack my brain for anything I might be interested in, anything that could be a hobby, and came up with nothing.

That scared me.

The water stopped halfway down my throat, and tried to come back up; I coughed and spluttered, covering my mouth so that my trainer couldn't see it dribble down my chin. He came rushing over, looking worried. I'll give him that, Musk was a nice man. I think. "Is everything okay?" he asked now, squatting down next to me. I waved his concern away and replied I was fine. Frowning, he nodded and got back up. It was only when his back was turned that I called his name again.

"Musk," I began, not at all sure how to phrase it, "Do you think…do you think that we're really people?"

Musk looked at me, head cocked to one side, uncomprehending. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Glimmer," he said, and I found myself hating my name, for the first time in my life. Glimmer, really? My parents couldn't have called me Kate or Sandy or Mary?

"I mean," I said, feeling stupider than ever, "I mean, my whole life revolves around the Capitol and honouring District One as a tribute. Do I have any…um, hobbies? Interests outside of the Capitol? Do I, um, have to be a tribute? I think I want to stick with just making jewellery."

Now Musk looked more confused than ever. "You're not making any sense," he said, "the Capitol is our _whole point of our existence, Glimmer._ We live to serve them, provide them with goods and services, and entertainment. Working hard is the only thing we know. And it's the only thing we need to know. Honour and persistence, Glimmer. That is all that matters to us." He left then, and I was more confused than ever.

 **XxX**

That night, I did something I'd never done before.

I snuck out of my room to eavesdrop on my parents. They were sitting in the dining room, and I was surprised to hear that Musk was there, too. They were whispering, and I had to press my ear to the door to even try to hear them.

"Yes, I was quite disturbed at some of the questions she was asking," Musk was saying. I could just imagine him sitting back in one of our lush chairs, purple hair slicked back and gold facial tattoos glowing in the artificial light. I heard someone push their chair back slightly. "She was asking if she had a purpose other than serving the Capitol."

My parents gasped. My mother, Opal, had about as much personality as a rock- not that I had ever seen one outside of work. Her hair was a sleek silver, and her face always shined with makeup. She looked very much like some of the Capitol citizens. Midas, my father, looked more like Musk than I'd care to admit. After receiving some injections in his face, he didn't look forty-five- he looked like he was much, much younger. He also had facial tattoos, though they weren't the delicate gold that Musk had, and his hair was an electrifying yellow.

It looked kind of silly, I'll admit. But his name was Midas, and we DID work as jewellers and goldsmiths, so it kind of fit, I guess.

"You think she won't want to volunteer for this year's Hunger Games?" he asked Musk now, sounding concerned. That was right- we didn't get Reaped, we volunteered for the Games. To honour our District and all that. I know our District had the highest survival rate- fifteen Victors was nothing to laugh at- but there was still that very real chance that we could die. We weren't invincible, after all.

"What do we do?" my mother asked, "she and Marvel are set to volunteer this year!"

I hadn't known that. Maybe that was why Marvel was so eager to do his drawing in his spare time- because he knew he was going to die. I felt like I had wasted my days. Marvel at least had pictures to show for himself- I had nothing. Nothing at all. My eyes began to burn with the realisation that if I died, nobody would have anything to remember me by. Worse still, nobody would want to if I died.

"I suggest you give her the vial," Musk said seriously, "we cannot risk her refusing to volunteer. Midas, you survived the Games, you know what the honours are. You don't want her to throw that away, do you? The family name will be dragged through the mud, where District Twelve sits." He snorted laughter, and my parents chuckled along with him. I felt my heart sink. I didn't know what this vial was, but I was going to be wary of anything Musk or my parents offered me from now on.

I didn't want to be brainwashed.

I fled back to my room, and locked the door.

 **XxX**

I think I must have messed up. I was so careful for the first few days…and then after training, Musk offered me a bottle. Thirsty and desperate to rehydrate myself before I got a headache, I chugged the water without thinking. I realised what I had done after I had finished half the bottle.

"No," I said loudly, "no. You didn't just do that to me." I could already feel the medicine start to work. My brain was getting fuzzy. I tried to think of what exactly Musk had done to me, but for some reason, I couldn't formulate it into words. I couldn't…think.

"This is for your own good, you know," Musk said, and I nodded, not really knowing what he was talking about. "Remember, the Reaping is tomorrow. Do your family and District proud, Glimmer, by volunteering as tribute."

I nodded again, my brain still full of mist. That was right. The Reaping was tomorrow. Marvel and I were going to volunteer. I was so excited to do my family and District proud! The amount of sponsors Marvel and I would get would be huge! We would pick off the lesser Districts easily! What a glorious day it would be!

I went to bed that night with a smile on my face.

 **XxX**

Everything had gone as planned. Marvel and I volunteered to be tributes for this year's Hunger Games. We went to the Capitol after bidding goodbye to our families, and we ate well, and trained even better. I was getting ready for bed when someone knocked on my door.

"Hey, Glimmer," Marvel said, coming into my room. He was dressed smartly, and his brown hair was slicked back, in imitation of Musk. He had no tattoos, at least not any visible ones, yet. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," I agreed, and scooted over so he could sit down next to me. "What's up?"

He frowned. "It's about the Games. I know we were meant to volunteer this year, but…I don't want to be here." I stared at him, wide-eyed, and he laughed and blushed slightly. "I mean…right before the Reaping, somebody offered me a job designing labels for wine. Um," and he flushed furiously, looking anywhere but at me, "someone saw my drawings, and they liked my penmanship, they said. They offered me a job, and I had to turn it down to come here. I've been wondering whether I made a mistake, you know? I really do love drawing." And his face lit up with a passion I had never seen before, on anybody's face. I felt my heart ache a little, even with all the mist swirling in my brain. "But you can't kill somebody with a pen," he said more seriously, "not unless you jam it into their throat, and even then…I'm worried about this years' Games. What if there aren't any swords? I'm not really good at anything else." He looked really worried. I assured him he'd be okay, citing the statistics our District had of winning.

"It'll be either you or I that win this year," I told him, flicking my long, blonde hair behind my shoulders. Like my father, my hair was indicative of my name and profession- it shimmered in the light, even now. "So don't stress. We'll be okay."

Marvel left looking a little mollified. I hoped he would feel better about it soon.

 **XxX**

I was in the training room, trying my hand at the bow. I was alright, but I missed more shots than someone like me would like to admit- the ground around the target was littered with missed arrows. Nevertheless, I kept at it. If Musk had taught me anything, it was that you never got better at anything unless you kept trying. My precision improved, and I thought my chances were good that if someone came rushing at me with a knife, I'd be able to hit them.

I looked up to see the girl from District Twelve staring at me. She looked mildly disapproving, and I shot her a nasty look. She was good with a bow, but I was willing to bet that if it came down to a knife fight, I would easily win. And there were always greater chances of knives being in the arena than bows.

I was going to grind her into dust. I would enjoy killing her for my District.

 **XxX**

She was in the tree, and we were below her, like sharks circling their prey. She only had her unwieldy bow, and we had knives and swords and everything to kill her. Marvel had gotten his wish of obtaining a sword, and Clove had knives out the wazoo. I had a bow as well (ugh), and Cato had a sword.

We didn't need to stay awake all night for Katniss; we would wake up if she was stupid enough to try and sneak by us. Cato slept holding his sword, and Clove had her hand inside her jacket, which I knew was lined with many knives.

This was going exactly the way I wanted it to. I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

I woke up to extreme pain. The air was thick with Tracker-jacks, and they were stinging us everywhere; our hands, feet, faces.

I screamed. One of them had gotten caught in my hair, and it stung my face repeatedly. I tried to swat it away and received a jab in the palm as a result. Frantic, I seized my bow and tried swatting at it, but the air was thick with them, and when I knocked one down, another six jumped in its place.

"Glimmer, run!" I heard Marvel scream. He dropped his sword and grabbed at my hand. I tried to seize it, but I slipped out of his grasp. He tried one more time, was stung more times, and he screamed an apology at me. He ran. So did Cato and Clove and the others.

"No!" I screamed. Still holding my bow, I stumbled after them. But the venom was potent, and I had been stung many times. One foot got caught underneath the other, and I went down. I cut my cheek on a stone, and I could only cry, as I was stung, over and over. I tried to get up, once, but all the strength had gone out of my body. It felt like my body was being weighed down with lead.

And the mist was going away. As I stared down, seeing a camera hidden in the ground, I knew my family was watching me die and sighing with disappointment. Musk would have his face in his hands.

I was going to die here. My body shuddered, and I struggled to suck in air. My body was shutting down. I could feel it.

As I lay there, unable to move or defend myself in any way, I thought of how my family would have nothing to remember me by. Unlike Marvel, I had no drawings, no little hobbies, nothing that set me apart from the rest of my District. I was just a machine to them, a machine designed to kill.

And I had failed.

As I powered down, a tear ran down my cheek, and I had time to think, _I'm almost glad it's over-_ before the darkness took over and I was no more.

 **A/N: This was my take on what it might be like to be a Career and from one of the wealthier districts. What if they didn't have a choice? Please let me know how you think I went with this! Also of course, Musk, Midas, Opal and Jade are fictitious- I made them up. Though for on the fly names for District One, I don't think I did too badly! Have a great day c:**


End file.
